


Transition

by EllieRose101



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Episode Fix-it, Episode: s06e11 Gone, F/M, Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:28:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23510836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieRose101/pseuds/EllieRose101
Summary: Oh, the things an invisible vampire can do!(A re-write of ‘Gone.’)
Relationships: Spike/Buffy Summers
Comments: 1
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rated for sexual content and adult language.

_I've been feeling everything  
from hate to love   
from love to lust   
from lust to truth   
I guess that's how I know you   
So I hold you… close… to help you give it up_

(Kiss Me by Ed Sheeran)

Part One – Turning Up to Turning Invisible

Spike reached out a hand and snagged Buffy’s arm, pulling her down to sitting alongside him in the rubble again. He pressed her heaving chest to his naked one and kissed her. Hard.

She kissed him back and, God, it was wonderful. _She_ was wonderful. And it hadn’t just been a single night. He knew it couldn’t be. He wouldn’t let it, and this just proved it. For all her talk about no repeat performances, Buffy was shoving her tongue down his throat like she was dying of thirst and it contained all the water she might ever need.

She was wild, his Slayer. All bruised and bruising. 

Buffy nibbled at Spike’s lips and moaned at his hands on her heated flesh; whispering back all kinds of wicked things alongside words of genuine affection that made his undead heart swell.

Spike got entirely lost in her words and body both. He was in heaven for long hours, not caring how many times the sun rose and set, or how long he worshiped her so long as he got to worship her. He didn’t have a single care in the world until he shifted, his arm knocked against something hard and his eyes suddenly sprung open to find the tall candles he’d set by his bedside scattered all over the floor.

_Damn it all to hell!_

He never woke up gently anymore. There was always something to ruin it. _Should have known it was a bloody dream the second Buffy agreed to stay._ After he took care of his raging hard-on – that act also none too gentle – he took a long minute to glare at the ceiling of his crypt. He’d have a cigarette, except he couldn’t find his bloody lighter.

It was morning, best he could figure it. Right about now, Dawn should be heading off to school and Buffy would be avoiding breakfast.

That worked.

Spike swiftly got up and dressed before heading on his way, blanket pulled over his head and across his shoulders, held fast in his fist above his heart. Frustration at least made the walk through the sewers seem shorter. It wasn’t long at all until he was back above ground and making the dash from manhole cover to Buffy’s back door.

He burst in, slammed the door shut again, threw off the blanket and began smoothing down his hair. “Morning.”

Buffy and Willow stared at him for a second before the Witch went back to a halfhearted attempt at cooking. An omelet, it looked like.

“What are you doing?” asked the Slayer, addressing Spike. “And here?”

He shrugged. “Just took a stroll. Found myself in your neck of the woods.”

Buffy crossed her arms. “You couldn't find a less flammable time of day to take a stroll?”

“Yeah, well….” He floundered a little, his brain finally snagging on something helpful. “The fact is my lighter's gone missing. Thought it might have, uh, dropped outta my pocket the last time I was here.” _Shagging you senseless on that couch of yours. Your sweet quim all around me, so bloody wet; your teeth biting into a cushion so you didn’t wake anyone and hands fisted in my hair, holding on for dear life._

Buffy blushed and turned to the sink. “Haven't seen it.”

Willow took the omelet pan and set it on the counter right next to where Buffy was leaning. “I'm gonna head back to my room, get dressed.”

“Oh, I....” Buffy began to follow her but stopped again after a few steps and turned back to Spike. “Lame.”

He smirked at her. “What?”

“You. Making up excuses.” Again, she walked back to the sink. Bloody lost, she was, even in her own kitchen.

“Don't flatter yourself, love,” said Spike, stepping close. “I’m bloody fond of that lighter.” _And if my enhanced vampire eyeballs don’t deceive me, I can see the outline of it in the pocket of your delightfully tight jeans._

Buffy glared at him, clearly not ready to give up the game yet. “Stop trying to see me,” she chided. “And stop calling me that.”

Edging closer still, so her breath tickled its way along his jawline, he asked, “What should I call you then? Pet? Sweetheart? My little Goldilocks?” He fondled a strand of hair between his fingertips. “You know I love this hair. The way it bounces around when you–”

Buffy’s arm shot out and grabbed the first vaguely weapon-esque item it could find, which just so happened to be a spatula. She wielded it threateningly, which was cute, really.

Spike grabbed her wrist. “Ah-ah-ah! This flapjack's not ready to be flipped.” His other hand went to her shoulder, then trailed lower.

“What the hell is that supposed to–” began Buffy, breaking off in a small sigh of pleasure. Her eyes closed, seemingly of their own accord and, “Stop that,” she whispered, even as she leaned into his touch.

“Good Godfrey Cambridge!”

Spike and Buffy looked up at the same time to see Xander standing in the kitchen doorway. And then she was off, shoving Spike away and abandoning the spatula.

“Still trying to mack on Buffy?” continued Xander. “Wake up already. Never gonna happen! Only a complete loser would ever hook up with you.”

Spike glared at the wanker but, then, so did Buffy. That helped soothe the hurt a little; to have her share it with him. Even if Xander didn’t bloody notice and just kept on yammering.

“Well, unless she's a simpleton like Harmony,” he went on. “Or a nut sack like Drusilla, or–”

“Hey!” said Buffy, faux perky. “You really need to get Dawn off to school. Let's go, go fetch her, okay?” She walked over to Xander, took his arm and guided him into the hallway. “You can let yourself out, right, Spike?”

Spike watched her go, still caught up in her scent, both wanting to run after her and storm off. He did neither, just stood listening as Dawn came downstairs and hit Buffy with a few passing barbs. There was the sound of the front door opening, then a small intake of breath from the Slayer.

“C-can I help you?”

“I'm Doris Kroger,” said some unknown voice. “From Social Services.” She paused, and Spike could imagine all parties staring blankly at each other. “We had an appointment?”

“For Wednesday,” said Buffy finally.

“This _is_ Wednesday,” said Doris.

Spike winced. Wasn’t getting off to a good start, was she? He wondered how he might help as Dawn and Xander finally left and the conversation between Buffy and Doris limped on.

The Slayer apologized for the mess as Spike walked into the living room and settled himself in an armchair. She stopped short as soon as she saw him.

“So, we gonna chat this out or what?” he asked, hoping the casual domestic scene would look good for the chit.

Buffy gaped at him for a second. “Uh... you know, now's really not a good time. I have company.” She gestured to Doris.

Spike smiled at her perfectly innocently. “No worries. I'll wait.”

“Miss Summers,” said Doris. “If you and your boyfriend would like to–”

“He is _not_ –” exclaimed Buffy, cutting Doris off mid-sentence only to be cut off herself by Spike’s scowl. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Not m-my boyfriend, he's, um, just... a....”

Spike stared at her wondering how exactly she’d get herself out of this hole. He’d offer to help, but she didn’t seem to want that.

Buffy sighed. “Spike, this nice woman is from _Social Services_ ,” she said pointedly.

“Right,” he replied, because of course he already knew that, but he shouldn’t already know that, because Doris didn’t know about his vampire hearing and if it appeared as if he knew in the first place and had remembered when Buffy hadn’t, it wouldn’t look good on her.

Spike got up and made a good show of acting surprised at the arrival. “Buffy's a great mom, you know. She takes good care of her little sis.” He should have stopped there, except both Buffy and Doris were smiling at him, so he felt encouraged. Maybe if he did a real good job, he could get a treat out of it. “Like when Dawn was hanging out too much in my crypt,” he continued, trying valiantly to think of a good example. “Buffy put a right stop to it.”

Doris’ smile vanished. “I'm sorry, did you say–”

“Crib!” exclaimed Buffy, complete with fake laugh. “He said crib. You know kids today and their buggin' street slang.”

Doris looked unconvinced, to which Buffy walked over to Spike, took his arm and turned him around. “Didn't you have to go now, you know, because of that thing?

“Uh, thing, yeah,” Spike stammered, following her lead only to stop again. “Oh, my blanket.”

Buffy pinched his arm where she still held it, picked up the blanket with her other hand and threw it at him. Spike glared at her but went into the kitchen as commanded, not another bloody word said. Couldn’t she see he was trying? Sure, he’d ballsed it up, but it wasn’t exactly like she was making fine work of it either.

“He sleeps here?” he heard Doris question.

“What?” said Buffy. “No! No. The, uh, blanket…. That's um, uh, it's a security thing, you know. He... has issues. Nope, just me and Dawn living here.”

_Cripes, so much for bein’ good in a crisis._

To top it all off, Willow called from upstairs just then to say she was gonna take a nap. Doris of course questioned that, and Buffy – of course – made the hole she was digging all that bit bigger.

“I think I've seen enough,” said Doris finally.

Buffy tried to argue but naturally didn’t get very far. Doris said she’d be in touch and that was that. Buffy sighed and closed the door after her, leaning one hand on the frame just to keep herself upright.

Spike’s heart clenched. Hard. “Didn't go well?” he said softly, sympathetically, only for her to turn around and shoot daggers at him. 

“Why won't you go?”

“I just thought you'd want–”

“Get out of here!” she yelled, all of her sorrow turning into anger right before his very eyes.

Spike was surprised for a second, then angry himself. All of the anger tinged his blood and he lunged forward, pinning Buffy against the door, one hand on the wall beside her head; their faces inches apart.

Buffy took a shuddering breath and Spike reached his hand down into her jean pocket. Her eyes closed and breathing sped up and– _there, got it._

Spike pulled out his lighter and backed off. “Just getting what I came for, love,” he said, stomping down the hall, back into the kitchen and to the back door without a backward glance. “So long, Goldilocks,” he added as it slammed behind him, no matter that he knew deep down he wasn’t fooling either of them.

He wasn’t going anywhere. He bloody couldn’t keep away if he tried. And he bloody had tried! Plenty of times. Never did him any sodding good. Sooner or later, his feet and his heart led him right back to where he started.

Standing in the shadows, scowling up at Buffy’s window, Spike chain-smoked four cigarettes as he tried to plan his next move. The nicotine helped to calm him a little, but it wasn’t anything near enough. He was just considering going to Willie’s to get pissed off his tits when Buffy’s front door opened and out she walked.

He followed, because of course he bloody did. He was curious and– wait a second. He took a second to blink at her. The bloody bitch. She’d only gone and hacked her gorgeous locks half off just to spite him.

Buffy walked into town and went into a real hairdresser's and Spike stood outside and smoked and smoked until his pack was empty. He tossed it down and shook his head. _This is ridiculous._ _I’m pathetic, standing here like a pillock._

Spike kicked a traffic cone, and another one, and a dumpster too, for good measure, before turning to go only to be hit up the face with… something. He wasn’t quite sure what. Except whatever it was had blown his blanket off him and, after a few seconds blind panic, Spike realized he wasn’t on fire from the sun. He looked down at his hands and saw… nothing. No hands. No arms, legs, or anything else. Though he could still feel where Buffy had pinched him earlier.

_What in the hell? I’m… invisible. I’m bloody invisible!_

Spike laughed at the absurdity of it before his attention diverted back to looking at Buffy in the next breath as she came out of the hairdressers and went towards Magic Box. He moved to go after her only to walk right into what looked like thin air but very much felt like a fire hydrant colliding with his shin. 

Undeterred, Spike shook off the pain and sped up. His mind was whirring with ideas for what to do with his newfound gift and, although he hadn’t firmly settled on any of them, they all centered on catching Buffy. 

Oh, yes, this was going to be fun.


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two – From Hindrance to Help 

_Fuck, fuck fuck! This is no fucking fun at all!_

Spike’s attempts at wreaking havoc had started out well enough, when he successfully scared the bejeezus out of Xander, but everything swiftly went to hell afterwards.

Anya with all of her bloody questions had the truth out right quick – not that Spike was able to tell her much, beyond where and when he’d become invisible – and then Buffy wasn’t long in laying into him, as if it was his bloody fault. After yelling at him for messing about and “getting into trouble,” she stomped off and he went after her. He was gonna tell her he was done with her kicking him; had enough of her treating him like some perpetual thorn in her bloody side. Spike had all kind of things he wanted to get off his chest, but then he’d caught up with her again, sat on that back porch of hers, crying her lamps out.

It broke his heart, not to mention halted all the harsh words he had shored up. Unthinkingly, Spike went to comfort her, completely forgetting that she wasn’t aware he was there and that all she could feel were invisible arms locking around her.

To say she freaked out was an understatement.

To say Spike’s nose was broken was also putting it mildly. He almost lost an eye. “Bloody hell!” He raised his hands in surrender before realizing how bloody pointless it was and putting them down again to take a step back instead. “It’s me, all right?”

“Spike?”

“Who else?”

Buffy screamed, a feral, frustrated sound rather than anything fearful. “Stop doing that! Why won’t you leave me alone!”

“Hey!” He pointed an accusing finger then gave up on that as well. “I was tryin’ to just give you a soddin’ hug.” Ridiculous as that sounded, coming from her once immortal enemy. 

Buffy scoffed and wiped roughly at the tears tracking down her cheeks. “Good job, genius.”

“Buffy–”

“No!” she snapped. “Just don’t. I can’t talk to you right now.”

Spike watched her climb the two steps to her back door and go inside, loudly locking it behind her. He closed his eyes and let the wretched feelings wash over him. “Can’t do anything right,” he groused to himself, knowing there was no point still standing there. So he walked off, wondering again what his next move should be. _No point trying to get a drink now. Willy would have a conniption._

Too restless to go home, Spike wasted his time having a look at the town in the daylight. Not that he could much enjoy it. How upset Buffy was kept playing on his mind. It couldn’t all be down to him, could it?

Ah. Suddenly, he remembered the social work visit. Of course that must be weighing on her. That bloody well decided it, didn’t it? He had to try and help. Again. And hope to any passing deity it wasn’t the wrong call for once.

Finding the Social Work offices wasn’t hard. All Spike had to do was take a peek in a phonebook by a payphone. It was once he was there he had to figure out how best to handle things. No more going off half-cocked, not thinking until afterword.

As it happened, Doris all but tried to walk through him and fell unceremoniously on her ass. Spike had to stifle his laughter at the situation as he watched her superior check her over and send her home for the day. With her out of the way, it was a piece of cake to find and destroy the report on Dawn, replacing it with a mostly blank piece of paper with just a single line of text saying Doris had got her days muddled and would conduct a meeting soon.

It could be easily disproven, but was hopefully enough to get Doris’ conduct in the matter called into question. She’d deny it, but she wouldn’t be able to explain it, which should be enough to grant Buffy another chance.

Spike slipped the amended ‘report’ into the boss’ in-tray and set off again, this time heading for the school. The line in the original report about Dawn being picked on had not escaped his notice, and there was something he could surely do about that. Even if he couldn’t eat the twats bullying his poor Niblet.

Instinctively, Spike kept slipping into sneaky stealth mode as he crept around the school. He kept catching himself and realizing all over again it wasn’t necessary. As evidenced by the fact that someone he suspected to be the principal walked right past him without batting an eye.

He shook his head and got on with it, easily sniffing Dawn out in the girl’s bogs. He’d have waited outside, except he could smell her tears and hear the voices of other girls inside, chatting about how weird she was with her “wacky sister-mom.”

Spike growled and slammed his way inside, making three girls at the mirror scream and run at the door in unison, screaming again when they bumped into him. A few seconds after their wails disappeared down the hall, a stall door opened and Dawn stepped out. She peered around, weapon in hand.

Clever girl.

“Who’s there?”

He stayed silent, unsure if he should make himself known, but then Dawn’s nose crinkled and she called him out directly.

“Spike, is that you?”

“How did you know?”

“Oh, thank god!” She breathed a sigh of relief before catching herself. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Checking up on you,” he said casually.

She looked around again. “Where even are you?”

He tapped her on the shoulder and she jumped. “Invisible, init.”

“What? Why?” She shook her head. “I don’t even know why I’m surprised. This town is the worst.”

Spike chuckled. “How did you know it was me, then?”

“Smell,” said Dawn, like it had taken no thought at all.

“Oi! I do not smell!”

Dawn’s hands went to her hips. “Please. You must smoke like a thousand cigarettes a day. Plus, the growling was a dead giveaway.”

Slightly mollified, he let it go.

“Seriously though,” said Dawn. “Why are you here? Did Buffy send you?” Her eyes got incredibly wide all of a sudden. “God, she’s okay, right? Is there trouble?”

“No trouble,” he soothed. “Just checking up on you, like I said.”

She eyed him suspiciously. Or tried to, failing on account of not being able to actually see him. “We should go before someone comes to see what all the screaming was about. Wanna walk me home?”

“Sure.” He held the door for her. “Is it quitting time already?”

“I just have study hall,” she said. “I can skip it.” It was an obvious lie, but he didn’t call her on it. Outside, she moved towards a sewer entrance but he stopped her.

“Sun doesn’t seem to be affecting me in this state.”

She paused, then started off on the normal route home with only a muttering of “Weird town.”

A couple of times as they walked, Spike tried to work in some big-brotherly advice, but he never was any good at forcing things. Eventually he sighed and just said it straight. “Listen, I heard you givin’ big sis a hard time, earlier. You know she’s tryin’ her best, right?”

Dawn looked at her feet. “She is,” she admitted. “I know she is, but….”

“What?”

She frowned and looked up again. “Would I be a terrible person if I said it didn’t really feel like enough?”

Spike floundered for words. “Not terrible,” he said at last. “It’s hard on all of you. Bein’ without Joyce. Needin’ so much. Ideal world, you’d have a mum and a dad and it wouldn’t all be on Buffy.”

“Yeah,” said Dawn quietly. “Are you gonna tell her what the girls were saying?”

“No,” he vowed. “But I think you should.”

Dawn shook her head. “I don’t know how to talk to Buffy. Not anymore.”

Spike frowned, now wondering if him talking to Buffy on her behalf had been what she was after all along. They were coming up on the house, though, so he was out of time to question it aloud. “I’ll just be going,” he said, clearing his throat in defiance of the awkward conversation.

“You’re not coming in?” Dawn questioned.

“Better not.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Did Buffy uninvite you again?”

He snorted. “Maybe, for all I know. She’s none too happy with yours truly.”

“She’ll come around,” said Dawn, smiling for the first time.

The sight did a dead man’s heart good. After he watched her disappear inside, he headed for home, finally feeling capable enough of rest. He’d done some good, he figured. Wasn’t quite feeling like so much of a prick.

Spike peeled off his clothes on his way to bed, not paying any attention to where they fell. Sure, they’d be a pain to try and find again later, but he couldn’t bring himself to care all that much. For all he knew, whatever was causing the invisibility would wear off while he slept, anyway.

\---

Three hours and two erotic Buffy dreams later, Spike awoke to the sound of someone in the upstairs of his crypt. He’d get up, except he recognized the particular footfall, so chose to simply brace himself where he lay.

Soon enough, the Slayer herself climbed down the ladder and took a look around. “Spike? Are you here?”

“Depends,” he said. “You come to bust my chops again?”

Her eyes settled on the bed, clearly having traced the direction of the voice. “You know you suck at hide and seek.”

He rolled his eyes. Not that it had any effect. “What is it, Slayer?”

“Dawn told me you two talked,” she said, sounding perfectly casual. Perfectly reasonable. It got Spike’s back up.

“Yeah?” he questioned, refusing to incriminate himself further.

“Yeah,” said Buffy. “She said you tried to help. Make her feel better.”

“Well. Right then. I….” He paused, not sure what he’d been about to say. Buffy was walking closer to the bed and it was making him nervous. And excited. And very aware of his hard-on.

“Mind if I sit?”

He moved his legs over. “Go ahead.”

“I also got a call from Social Services,” she said conversationally. “They want to schedule another meeting. Something about a problem with the first report. That your doing too?”

“Maybe,” he hedged.

Buffy smiled faintly and trailed her hand along the sheet. “I thought it might,” she said, voice sweetness and light, and god, he was getting harder. Her hand was getting closer to his leg.

“So, uh… what do you want?” he asked, wincing at how blunt it sounded.

Buffy pulled back her hand to set it in her lap. “I came to say thank you. For talking to Dawn. And the report.”

“And?” he pressed, not sure what else to say. Not sure what she was driving at exactly, though he of course hoped. One of his erotic dreams hadn’t started out all too differently, truth be told. 

Buffy blew out a breath. “I may have overreacted earlier,” she admitted. “I owe you an apology.”

“Bloody hell, this is a turn up for the books!”

She glared in the general direction of his pillow. “Could you possibly be gracious about this and make it a little easier?”

“Fine,” he said. “Apology accepted.”

“Good,” said Buffy, turning her face away again. She flexed her fingers, and only then did Spike realize she was nervous. Genuinely on edge. _Isn’t that interesting. Maybe I have cause to hope after all._

“So, um….” She bit her lip. “What if I tried to thank you properly?”


	3. Chapter 3

Part Three – Mischief and Mayhem

Spike had a whole speech planned about not putting up with mixed signals anymore, and how Buffy could just bloody shove off already if all she was gonna do was give him parts of herself only to keep back the rest and deny everything on the next breath. But, well, then she came over all attentive and the speech went out the window, didn’t it? Spike closed his eyes and was really getting into it, accepting her thanks wholeheartedly when–

“Oh my god!” came Xander’s voice.

Buffy froze mid-movement and Spike’s eyes sprang open again.

“What?” said Tara, looking at Xander then back to Buffy. “What is– oh!” Her eyes widened. “Oh my god!” Took a couple more seconds to click with her what was happening, did it? Figures.

Spike swore under his breath and Buffy leaned back enough to let him slide right off her wicked tongue. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. “Uh, hi guys.”

Xander gaped at Buffy. 

“Is it safe yet?” asked Tara, who’d put her hands over her eyes.

Buffy bit her lip. “Yeah. You can, uh, open up.”

Tara peeked out through a half-open lid, then breathed a huge sigh of relief and opened her eyes fully. “Could you, um, maybe warn us next time?”

“How about you don’t barge into a man’s crypt?” retorted Spike, none too pleased at the interruption. He’d been so close, too. “Bloody sidekicks.”

“Hey!” exclaimed Xander, finally rediscovering his voice.

“Spike,” Buffy warned, standing up from where she’d been kneeling by the bed. She looked at her friends. “Why are you guys here?”

“Pudding,” they explained.

Buffy stared blankly.

“We mean, Spike’s turning into pudding,” Tara clarified.

“Right,” said Buffy, her eyes taking on a glassy look, making it apparent to Spike, if no one else, exactly where her mind had scurried off to. Thought he was tasty, did she? Well. He grinned from ear to ear. 

Smelling a fresh hint of Slayer arousal hit the air, he came up behind her and pressed himself close. She trembled at the feel his of hardness against her ass as he put one arm around her waist and reached his other hand up to cup a breast, tweaking a nipple through the thin fabric of her t-shirt.

“Can we deal with this later?” Buffy asked her friends, her tongue darting out to wet her lower lip.

“Sure,” said Xander.

“No,” said Tara, throwing him a disapproving look. And then the revelation came out properly. “Whatever caused Spike to go invisible is going to break down his cells and kill him,” she explained.

“You know, again,” added Xander with a vague hand gesture.

“Bloody hell!” Spike’s hands dropped to his sides.

“And they’ve got Willow!” said Tara, near on the verge of tears.

Buffy blinked, her eyes refocusing. “They? They who?”

\---

During the hurried walk to a video game arcade, of all places, Tara filled in the rest of what Buffy and Spike had missed, namely Xander initially thinking Willow had done a spell to accidentally cause Spike’s invisibility, him confronting her, and her investigating the matter to prove her innocence. She’d apparently been gone a couple hours when Dawn got a call at the house to say someone had taken her and the Slayer better come meet them alone “or else.”

“Anya’s staying with Dawn,” Tara finished. She wrung her hands. “You don’t really think they’re gonna hurt Willow, do you?”

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” said Buffy. “If this is the same person who attacked Spike, I’m gonna have a _lot_ to do with them.”

Spike couldn’t help but be heartened by the righteous anger in her tone on his behalf. If he didn’t know any better, he’d damn well be convinced she actually cared. He didn’t get much time to muse on it, however, as a fight broke out almost the moment they were inside.

Willow was standing beside a pinball machine, looking nervous.

“Just stay still and you won't get hurt,” said a voice off to her side.

Buffy approached her. “You okay, Will? Where are the bad guys?”

“All around you, Slayer,” came the voice again. “So don't try anything.”

Willow was quick to say, “He's bluffing. There's just three of them, I think.”

“More than enough to cause some serious carnage, right, guys?” The voice was met with silence. “Guys?”

To the right of Willow, joysticks were flicking back and forth, seemingly on their own.

“Kick! Use the kick!” wined a second unseen voice.

“I tried that, he keeps blocking it with his drunken monkey fist!” came a third.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Ooh, scary video carnage.”

“Hey!” snapped the first guy again. “Knuckleheads, Slayer's here!”

“Oh!” The joystick flicking stopped. “Oops.”

“Why don't we continue this in a less crowded area?” asked Invisible Wanker Number One. “Like over there.”

Willow frowned. “Where?”

“Over…ugh!” Wanker One grunted. “Just follow me.”

Something vaguely resembling a high-powered super soaker hovered in mid-air while Willow was dragged over to an air hockey table by invisible hands. Spike watched the scene unfold and said nothing. As far as he could tell, Wankers One-Through-Three didn’t know he was there. That gave him an advantage. So he waited until he could use it to his best… well, advantage.

“I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess you guys are the same ones who have been messing with me for weeks,” said Buffy.

“We didn’t mean it!” proclaimed Wanker Number Two.

Buffy turned towards the voice as if she recognised it. “Who's that?”

“Oh, uh.” He cleared his throat and affected an accent. “ _Nobody you know_.”

“They're the ones from your mystery van,” affirmed Willow. “I found their lair and saw schematics. The gun is an invisiray. Probably what got Spike.”

“Spike?” questioned Wanker One. “What’s he–?”

Spike took his cue to follow the voice and clock him in the jaw.

“Oww!”

“What?”

“Who was that?”

“What’s happening?”

A random passer-by screamed and took off running at all the unseen voices. Bloody shambles, the whole thing was. Spike kept a tight hold of Wanker One’s collar and looked toward Buffy.

“Does the ray have a reverse setting?” she asked Willow.

“Yeah. Undo the particle ionization. There’s a dial.”

Buffy wrestled the gun from the hands of Wanker One. She tried to casually hit him in the stomach in the process, but got Spike, instead.

“Bloody hell, watch the elbows love!”

Wanker One jumped in his grasp and whimpered.

“Sorry,” said Buffy. “Didn’t see you.”

Willow looked perplexed. “Spike’s here?”

“Sure. Can’t you smell the cigarettes?”

“Oh, yeah.” She looked vaguely soothed.

“Oi!”

“Shut up,” said Buffy, but not harshly.

“Uh… what’s happening?” asked Wanker Two, forgetting to obscure his voice again.

Buffy frowned, twiddled the dial as directed by Willow, and blasted where the question had come from. “Jonathan?”

A nerdy guy around her age shifted from foot to foot. “Uh, no?”

She glared at him and Wanker Three tried to bolt, except the idiot went for a path right past Spike and he was able to still him with a hand around his throat. He didn’t squeeze. Much. Just as much as the chip would allow.

“Over here,” Spike told Buffy. “One to the left of me, one on the right.”

“Right.” She blasted Wanker One, first. “Warren?”

He glared at her and she blasted Wanker Three back into living color. This one, at least, she didn’t seem to already know.

“Who are you?” she asked on the next breath, confirming the theory.

“Andrew,” he said, as if the name should mean something.

Buffy was still staring blankly at him.

“I summoned the flying monkeys that attacked the high school?” he prompted. “During the school play, you know?”

Willow and Buffy exchanged a look.

“It's Tucker's brother,” Warren said at last.

“Yeah, Tucker's brother,” affirmed Jonathan.

“Ohhh,” Buffy and Willow said in stereo.

Spike looked at them all like they’d gone completely carrot top. “If you wouldn’t mind–” he began only for Warren to throw himself forward, slipping from his grip and making a grab for the gun. Before anyone could react, he’d swung it back to hit Spike deftly in the testicles and then broke the damn thing over his knee.

“Aha!” he crowed, but the victory was short-lived.

Buffy stepped forward, snatched the broken gun from his hands and hit him over the head. “No one gets to beat up my boyfriend except me!”

Spike blinked at her through watering eyes. Had she just–?

“Don’t worry,” Willow assured Buffy quickly. “Now we know what caused the transformation, I’m pretty sure magic can undo it. A standard reversal spell has many uses, not just….” She trailed off, suddenly looking sheepish. “Or maybe Tara could do it.”

Buffy gave her a tight smile. “Thanks. Let’s just get these bone heads back to the Magic Box.” Looking at the gun more closely, she mused aloud that the police would probably be “really interested to know where their stolen diamond had wound up.”

Jonathan and Andrew exchanged panicked looks.

“You wouldn’t actually turn us in,” said the first.

“We can’t go to jail!” exclaimed the second.

“Should have thought of that before you got into crime,” said Buffy, not the least bit sympathetic.

“B-but I thought we were friends!” pleaded Jonathan.

“No,” said Buffy, her tone hardening even more. “We could have been, once. But your spells that interfere with free will, and theft, and hurting people that I happen to love kinda gets in the way, don’t you think?”

He fell silent and so did Spike. Stunned, he was, though Buffy didn’t seem to notice her slip. Willow looked like she was about to question it, but didn’t get a chance as Buffy hurried her and everyone else off to get the trio processed and the reversal spell whipped up as quickly as possible.

The whole walk to the Magic Box and the whole time police interviews were going on, Spike didn’t say a word. Buffy actually had to ask him if he was still there with them, after the wankers were finally hauled off.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, his brain still reeling.

“Uh, good,” she said with a blush. “The spell shouldn’t take much longer, I think.”

“It’s ready,” said Tara, just then. “Here.” She held out a twig for Spike to hold.

A few words were uttered, some sage was flung around, and then light blasted outwards to where Spike’s twig was being held.

“Gah!” exclaimed Xander when the smoke cleared.

“Very nice,” said Anya, grinning.

Tara looked away and Willow’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Why didn’t it work on his clothes? It should have. We did everything right.”

Buffy moved to stand between Spike and everyone’s view of his penis. “Did you actually bother to get dressed before coming here?” she asked through gritted teeth.

He shrugged and she turned back to her friends. “Are we good here?”

Willow nodded, her expression bemused, and Buffy pushed against Spike, getting him to back up against the interior door. “We’ll just be in the training room.”

“Try out the pommel horse,” said Anya, causing Spike to wink at her and Xander to almost faint on the spot.


	4. Chapter 4

Part Four – All Things Righted

Spike watched as Buffy closed the Magic Box’s training room door firmly before turning to face him. He watched as she looked him up and down once then very deliberately settled her eyes no lower than his shoulder line. She held his gaze for a long moment, then broke into peals of laughter, shaking her head the whole time.

Spike laughed, too, because it felt good, and the situation was bloody well bonkers. “Hell of a day,” he mused.

“I’ll say,” agreed Buffy. Her arms were hanging awkwardly by her sides and her whole body was tense despite the laughter. “God, life is really weird.”

“That it is.” He stepped close but she tensed even further, so he pulled back a little and eyed her speculatively.

“What?” she said, defensive.

Spike sighed. Tense and defensive already. Of course. “You tell me,” he said.

Buffy frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“ _You_ tell _me_ ,” repeated Spike, his voice raised. “Bloody hell, Slayer. You blow hot and cold like a bloody… I don’t know. Like an eastern sodding breeze. Give a bloke a clue. Tell me what you think.” He stepped closer once more and lowered his voice to a whisper. Buffy shivered a little in response. “Tell me what you _feel_ , love.” He reached out and stroked her cheek. “What you want.”

“I… I can’t.” She wouldn’t look at him now at all.

Spike’s shoulders slumped and his hand fell to his side. “Why not?” He couldn’t let this go. Not when he felt so close to finally reaching her. “Buffy, I love you!” he vowed, desperate for her to understand.

She looked up from her feet, her gaze sharp. “That! That’s the problem!”

“What?” His face scrunched up of its own accord. “What do you–”

“It’s terrifying,” she said, cutting him off. “ _You’re_ terrifying. Way more than you ever were before.”

He paused, trying to process the words. Before he got very far, she added, “If it was just sex, it’d be fine. I know how to do that.” She blushed furiously. “I mean, I know where I stand with sex, or….” She shook her head. “I’m not saying this right. It’s all too hard. And love!” she exclaimed, voice near hysterical. “Love just makes it all harder, and I can’t. I… I can’t–!” She broke off in a sob.

Bloody hell. It was one hell of an experience watching her fly through the full range of emotions. Terrifying was the word for it, all right

“Buffy, love,” he soothed. “I know I’m a prick, but….” He hesitated, hating himself a little. Or a lot. “Listen, okay? I’ll back off. If that’s what you need. If that’s what you’re asking. I’ll stop, okay? Stop pushing. I… I won’t ask you for anything. Just so long as you….” He trailed off again, belatedly realizing that saying ‘so long as you’re okay’ was still asking more than she was clearly capable of. “I’m sorry,” he said at last.

“Me too,” said Buffy, rubbing her tears away even as they continued to fall. “God, I’m such a mess. I don’t even know why you love me. Or how.”

“ _How?_ ” Spike questioned, baffled by the prospect of ever _not_ loving her. “Buffy, how can I not? You’re gorgeous. And I don’t just mean your skin. Your hair.” He breathed her in again and had to stop himself touching her all over. “ _Inside,_ ” he continued. “All bloody over. You’re fantastic. And patient as a fucking saint. Everything you’ve been through… I mean, it’s more than anyone else by a long bloody chalk. And you’re still standing. Half of the shit you’ve faced would have broken anyone else.”

“And am I not broken?” she interrupted, eyes fierce. “How can you look at me and not see… not see a shell?”

“I look at you,” said Spike. “And I see strength. I see gentleness, too, which is a bloody miracle to find in the same body. I see kindness. You’re sexy, and you’re tough; you’re sympathetic, and relentless. You’re not perfect, by any means but… to me… you are. I look at you, Buffy, and I see everything. It’s not even anything to do with me wanting you. You’re a vision all by yourself. You’re a hell of a woman. You….” He had to look away just to stop himself falling to his knees right in front of her. “You’re the one, Buffy.”

“Spike,” she breathed, his name on her lips like a prayer, and suddenly he felt his nakedness. His complete vulnerability. Here he was opening himself all the way up, knowing she was about to walk away for the very last time and he couldn’t chase her. Not now. Not if…. God, she made it sound like the whole thing was killing her, when all he wanted was for her to live.

“Spike,” she said again, leaning into him and closing her eyes like she was gonna kiss him.

He stepped back. Held up his hands. “Slayer?”

She swallowed and leveled her gaze with his again. “I– I know,” she said, voice shaky. “I know this looks like I’ve just changed my mind again, but I…. After what you said – and how you said it, because I know you mean it – I… I need you, Spike.”

“But, Buffy….” He set his hands to her upper arms, not sure if he was preparing himself to push her away or pull her close. “I’m not having a go, all right? Because I get it now. As much as I can, anyway. I see how mixed up you are, and I know you’re not batting me back an’ forth just for fun. But….”

“But it means you don’t know what to do,” said Buffy. “I know. And I’m sorry. It… It’s like I can’t stop myself. I see myself doing it, and I hate it, but I can’t stop.”

“And I can’t win,” said Spike. “No matter what I do.”

Buffy hung her head. “And you say I’m the patient one. Any other guy would be running for the hills. Long gone a long time ago.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Spike vowed. “Not… not unless that’s what you need?” He studied her face only to give up again. How could he find answers when she didn’t have any?

“I think,” said Buffy. “I think maybe part of me has been testing you. Waiting to see how long it would take. Or how much. Part of how scary it is….” She swallowed, then carried on. “Is how strong my feelings are. Like, violently strong. If I mix mine with yours and then it all falls apart and you leave….” Her whole body shook. “Spike, I couldn’t handle that. I can’t. I thought everything with Angel, before, was gonna kill me, but this is more and I… I just don’t know how to live with that.”

Spike chuckled, the laugher completely at odds with the intensity of the conversation but startled out of him. Because here she was, comparing him to Angel and _he_ was coming out on top? In what bloody world had that ever even been a possibility.

“So I won’t leave,” he vowed afresh.

“You can’t promise that,” said Buffy.

“Oh yeah? Just try and stop me. I’ll sign papers. I’ll sew us together. Get a spell done, if that’s what you need.”

Buffy’s breath caught. “I’d tell you to be serious, but you mean it, don’t you?”

“Every. Word.”

She took a step back and he waited. Her eyes were unfocused, glittering like all they’d said was flashing in front of them again. Then, finally, she looked back at him, her face puzzled. “Where does this leave us?”

Spike held his lower lip between his teeth for a second. “I think… I think that’s up to you.”

“God!” She threw up her hands. “You make it sound easy!”

“Well, I’m bloody sorry, all right?”

She smiled, the expression a little manic. “All of this is crazy. I… I know that I want you. I admit it. I do. I want you so much it hurts. And when Tara said earlier that you might… dissolve, or whatever, all the fear I’d been ignoring came hurtling back. I knew I had to stop it; knew I had to save you, because… because I can’t live in a world without you in it. Spike, I….” She closed her eyes and she said it. She said the words he genuinely believed he’d never hear from her lips. Not for him. “I love you, Spike,” she said, taking a huge, gulping breath as soon as she did. And when her body stopped shuddering, she opened her eyes and she said it again. “Spike, I love you. I really do.”

He stared at her. Not disbelieving her for one second, but… just completely in awe. It was like she’d tortured the confession from the depths of herself, and now she was free. She was smiling, and her shoulders were back, no longer weighed down. Buffy laughed and clapped a hand across her mouth, not in horror, but joyful surprise. Her eyes bore into Spike’s, with all their mirth, and love, and then something else shifted and there was heat there, too. Buffy dropped her hand from her lips and stepped into Spike’s personal space. Tentatively, he leaned close, and then her lips were on his. She kissed him and he kissed her, and she moaned and he lost himself, his tongue and teeth travelling the length of her neck; his hands roaming over her chest and down her arms.

Buffy pulled back just enough to strip her clothes off – first her top, then her trousers, before getting frustrated with her underwear and ripping her bra and panty set. Spike didn’t see her socks and boots vanish, he just looked away from her glorious breasts for one second and found them gone. God, she was a vision. She began exploring him in the same way he’d been touching her: hungry, completely taken over by blood and instinct and…. Spike inhaled sharply. Love. She had been overtaken by love as much as he had. She’d said it, and there wasn’t any doubt in the world that she meant it. It wasn’t some easy confession, or casual lie. There was nothing easy about it. She was trusting him entirely. With her heart. Her body. Her happiness.

_God!_ Spike groaned, the exertion from having run from the prospect of trying to give her up to the polar opposite of promising himself to her forever having taken its toll on his heart. He needed her. Right that second, and the scent of her arousal told him the need was more than mutual.

Buffy trailed her hand along his hip to his thigh, then reached between his legs to hold his cock in her palm. It twitched and got harder still. The whole time they’d been standing there, exchanging emotionally charged words, it’d been bobbing about. Spike had done his best to ignore it, but there was no chance of that now. Thankfully, it didn’t look like there was any need to. The ravenous look in Buffy’s eyes made Spike feel all the confidence in the world that neither he nor his cock would be lacking attention any time soon.

“I can’t believe you were naked this whole time.”

He grinned. “Can’t you?”

“Well.” She blushed. “It is you. I probably shouldn’t be surprised.”

Spike rolled his tongue behind his teeth and took in the sight of her all over again. She’d never really given him the luxury of looking at her any of the times before. He saw now what a crime that was.

Buffy lay down and pulled him with her. He moved to start kissing a trail from head to toe, but she shook her head. “Now,” she said. “Please. I need you. No more waiting.”

Well. How could a bloke say no to that?

Spike kissed her and spread her thighs as the sound of her heart hammered in his ears and her breathing hitched up a notch. He slid inside her and she moaned, her nails scratching his biceps as he started to move.

“Yes!” she said. “Yes, Spike, please! More, _oh!_ ”

Buffy clenched around him and he pressed himself deeper.

“God, Buffy, I love you!”

“I love you!” she panted right back, like it was almost easy for her now. “Spike, I– I need–”

“I know, baby, I know.” He trailed a hand between their bodies, setting it to her clit and rubbing at that angle he knew made her scream. And scream she did. Buffy came completely undone around him and he sped up, tipping her over the edge a second and third time in quick succession before spilling inside her.

They lay together, limp and glorious for a long time before Spike felt Buffy’s arms tighten around him. She pulled him into a bruising hug and cried against his chest. “Thank you. _Thank you!_ ”

He pet her hair, not sure exactly which bit had won her gratitude, or maybe if it was everything, but not about to interrupt her.

Finally, she eased up a little and rolled them over, so they were side by side. Buffy looked deep in his eyes and kissed him again. “I love you, Spike.”

“Oh, love!” He pulled her to himself, ready to worship her all over again. To take more time in round two, making it just right. Just as it should be. “I don’t know how we got here, but I’m so bloody glad we did.”

Buffy smiled. “No leaving, right?”

“Never,” he vowed, and she kissed him again.

“I’m sorry it–”

“No,” he interrupted. “No apologies. Not now. Doesn’t matter, right? Because everything’s finally fine, right?” He felt frantic, like suddenly she might disagree, or run away again, but she stilled him with her touch. With her words.

“It’s perfect,” she said. “Right now, everything in the world is just exactly right.”


End file.
